


Traitor in Our Midst

by Lady_Sci_Fi



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Sci_Fi/pseuds/Lady_Sci_Fi
Summary: On a parallel Earth, Platoon Leader Mike Yates of the Republic Security Forces is suspected of treason and helping the rebel efforts against the Republic of Great Britain.(Inferno-verse AU)
Kudos: 2
Collections: Classic Who Secret Santa 2019





	Traitor in Our Midst

**Author's Note:**

> The catastrophe that happened at the end of Inferno to this parallel Earth doesn't happen.  
> Written for the Classic Who Secret Santa prompt "Anything involving UNIT. Maybe Inferno-verse AU. Yates is my favorite" from maniacwatchestheworld.

“Come in, Yates.”

Platoon Leader Mike Yates of the Republican Security Forces pushed the office door open the rest of the way to enter. He saluted, “Brigade Leader.” He lowered his hand and looked at the seated man’s stern profile.

A few seconds later, Brigade Leader Lethbridge-Stewart turned in his chair to fully face him. Mike had learned soon after he had been assigned to serve here to not be intimidated by the other man’s scar and eyepatch. But somehow, in this moment, he was intimidated by it again. The remaining eye seemed to bore into him.

“I’ve been thinking, Yates.”

“Sir?” Mike stood still with his hands behind his back.

“I’ve been thinking that we might have a traitor in our midst.”

“A traitor, sir?” Mike’s heartbeat quickened at the suggestion.

“Yes.” Lethbridge-Stewart stood up. “The rebels have been getting bolder recently.”

“Rebels are bound to do that at some point, sir.” If he could get the Brigade Leader to think this was simply natural, perhaps he could talk his way out of this conversation, and out of possibly being found out.

“Yes, I know that. This isn’t my first assignment, Yates.” Lethbridge-Stewart put his hands on the desk and leaned forward over it. “It’s how they’ve gotten bolder that concerns me. More… precise with what they do and how they do it.”

“Perhaps they’ve simply gotten smarter. Watching certain things and routines and the like?”

“Or someone has been feeding them information from the inside.”

“That is also a possibility,” Mike agreed. Continuing to dismiss the concerns would only put suspicion on him. He knew the consequences if they found out, and really did not want to experience them for himself.

“I expect you to help me root them out, of course.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Very good, Yates.” Lethbridge-Stewart cleared his throat. He called out to the open door. “Benton! Walsh!” Then he sat down.

Mike didn’t move as the other two walked in, thinking that the three of them were going to be given further instructions on the matter. But he very quickly got the sense that wasn’t the case, not with feeling the other two soldiers’ stares at his back.

“Platoon Leader Yates, what have your… extracurricular activities been?” Lethbridge-Stewart asked.

“My activities, sir?” Mike kept his voice even, but suspicion was on him.

“Your activities, Yates.” Lethbridge-Stewart’s voice had more of an edge now.

Mike smiled a little. “Well, I like to go to the pub for a drink sometimes. I’ve gone out with Benton and a couple of the other men some of those times.”

Lethbridge-Stewart looked to Benton, who affirmed, “He does, sir.”

“Other than that, not much to my activities, really. I like quiet nights in.”

“Alone?”

Mike shrugged. It was true that he didn’t do much other socializing. The contact he had with the rebels could hardly be categorized as that. “Yes, sir.”

“No other friends or any romances for you?”

“Not really.”

“Tell me the truth, Yates.”

“I am, Brigade Leader.” Mike cleared his throat slightly. “Do you… do you suspect me?” It certainly felt that way, with the unnecessary presence of Benton and Walsh behind him, assuring he couldn’t run away. “Or are we eliminating the four of us first?”

Lethbridge-Stewart didn’t directly answer. Instead, he leaned back in his chair for a few seconds, considering the man in front of him. “Lately, Yates, you’ve been more… cautious and hesitant in general, but especially when it comes to rebel activity.”

“You said it yourself, sir. They’ve been getting bolder.”

Lethbridge-Stewart stood again, this time slamming his hands down on the desk. “That is no reason to not do your duties!” He breathed through his nose. “The timing between your behavior and theirs is suspicious.”

Mike’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest for a second. All it would take was suspicion, no need for concrete evidence. “Sir, I haven’t been involved with the rebels or any of their activity. I am loyal to the Republic.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Lethbridge-Stewart nodded to the two soldiers behind Mike. “Take him to the interrogation room.”

It took all of Mike’s will to not fight back as Benton and Walsh grabbed his arms and yanked them behind him. He couldn't do anything to appear guilty. He could still get out of this.

At least, he hoped he could.

********

The large bright spot of the lamp in the dark interrogation room was aimed directly at Mike’s face. It hurt his eyes and made him uncomfortable, but he could handle this. Part of their training was withstanding interrogation from the enemies of the Republic.

“Who are your contacts?” the Brigade Leader shouted, his face lit menacingly from behind the lamp.

“I don’t have any. I have never been in contact with the rebels,” Mike lied as calmly as he could. His hands cuffed behind him clenched slightly around the bottom of the chair. Benton shoved his head forward again, keeping a grip on his hair and roughly yanking it back. “Except for when we deal with them, of course,” he added.

“What have you told the rebels about our operations?”

“Nothing, sir. I haven’t spoken to anyone I know is one or suspect is one.” He grunted as Benton struck him on the side of the head. Not at full-strength, of course, but just to let him know things could very easily get rougher.

“Why would you betray the Republic?” Section Leader Beth Shaw asked.

“I haven’t.”

“Then explain your change in behavior,” she demanded.

“They’ve been getting bolder, so we may need to be more cautious when it comes to dealing with them,” he tried his earlier excuse again.

“What has made them become bolder, Yates? Your help?” Lethbridge-Stewart asked.

Shaw leaned back slightly in her chair. “Brigade Leader, correlation does not always equal causation.”

Mike kept his face neutral, but was relieved that someone doubted these suspicions. At least, until what she said next.

“But I think more questioning is needed before we can determine that in this instance.”

“I agree,” Lethbridge-Stewart nodded. He gestured to behind Mike. Benton pulled the man up to his feet. “Bring him closer.”

Mike winced as he found himself forcefully bent over until he was pinned down to the desk on his front. Benton’s hand pressed down hard between his shoulders, and his other hand again grabbed at Mike’s hair to wrench his head up enough to look at Lethbridge-Stewart. The harsh angle immediately began making his neck sore.

Lethbridge-Stewart moved the lamp to shine it directly in Mike’s face again. Mike flinched back and squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them again at the bellowed, “Look at me!” He fought to ignore the near-blinding light to focus on the other man.

“A sign of guilt?” Shaw questioned.

“No,” Mike protested, shifting under Benton. “I-I’ve done nothing with them.”

Lethbridge-Stewart pushed the lamp aside to get in close. Mike failed to suppress the shudder at the cold scarred expression. “Problem is, Yates, I don’t quite believe you.”

Mike swallowed. “What… what would it take for you to believe me?” He didn’t need to ask, not really. He knew where this would go next. He’d been present for a couple interrogations of people suspected of being rebels. The next step would be to break him down enough to where he either admitted to his crimes or they determined he was too worn down to be lying.

“Take him to a cell. We’ll try enhanced interrogation tomorrow.” The Brigade Leader ordered.

Benton pulled Mike upright, and with Walsh, they marched him out of the room.

********

Mike let out a long breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He wished they would just get this over with. But no, they had thrown him in here, forced him to change out of his uniform and into basic trousers and shirt, then told him tomorrow. There wasn’t any measure of privacy, with the cell situated as a wall with three sides consisting of vertical bars. It was more a cage, really.

The waiting was part of it, he knew. Raise his anxiety and make him more liable to answer truthfully. But even though he knew that, he had to admit that it was working in some small part.

How long could he last with enhanced interrogation? He knew from observation how brutal it could be. And what when he passed after tomorrow? Would they be satisfied? Or were there bits of evidence they had that he didn’t know about that would make them keep going?

Whatever was to happen, he wasn’t going to betray the rebel contact he knew and shared information with. He mentally pushed aside her hazel eyes, short brown hair, beautiful features, and lively spirit. He really couldn't afford to think of her now. He would not betray her.

Not long after he had been locked up, someone came in. Mike lifted his head to see Shaw quietly saying something to the guard before she approached his cell. The guard left, but Mike didn't take that as a good sign.

“Shame, you were such a bright young officer when I met you a few years ago,” Shaw said as greeting.

“I still am,” Mike countered as he sat up on the edge of the bed. He knew what this was. The pleasant approach before the rough one.

“It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

“I’m innocent, Section Leader.”

“You haven’t convinced me, or more importantly, Lethbridge-Stewart.”

“If I could convince you, would that help in convincing him?”

Shaw smiled, but it was the opposite of warmly. “Perhaps, but you’ll have to work very hard for that.”

“Do you have something on me? Because I can’t think of why you all would suspect me so suddenly like this.”

“You’ve been good, Yates. But like we said earlier, your behavior change…”

“Is that really enough evidence to do this to a good soldier?”

“We’ll see, unless you want to confess now, of course?”

Mike sighed and shook his head. He stood and approached the bars. “I have nothing to confess, except that I’m loyal to the Republic and always have been.” He smiled the most charmingly he could manage.

Shaw chuckled. “Trying to use your good looks on me? You might want to be careful with that.” Then she coldly smiled in return before she left him.

Mike tilted his forehead against the cool metal and watched her go. He had known it would be a long shot to get her on his side. Shaw was more reasonable than Lethbridge-Stewart, but in the end, she would always go with his decisions.

Mike noticed the guard staring at him, and said, “I’m not getting out of here, you know.” The other man didn’t respond, and Mike decided to go back to the bed to put him more at ease. Anything to get him in some sort of good graces.

********

Benton’s fist forced Mike’s head to snap to the side with a hard punch across his face. Mike grunted through the pain of this fourth blow.

“Are you involved in the rebel efforts?” Shaw asked again.

“No,” Mike answered around the welling blood trickling from his mouth.

“Why are you involved with them?” Lethbridge-Stewart demanded, walking around Mike’s side with his hands behind his back, his swagger stick between them.

Mike straightened up. “I’m not, sir.”

“Stop lying!” The swagger stick cracked down on Mike’s shoulder.

“I’m not, sir! I haven’t had any known contact with them.” The top of the stick pressed up under his chin.

“You are trying my patience, Yates.” Lethbridge-Stewart crouched down enough to be on eye-level with the man cuffed to the chair.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, sir. I haven’t been in contact with-” Mike cut himself off as the end of the stick pressed into his throat.

“You have. Stop denying it and start telling the damn truth!”

“I am, sir!” He waited until the stick drifted back away to ask, “Why do you suspect me? What have I done?”

“I am asking the questions here,” Lethbridge-Stewart hissed. “And you are answering them.”

Mike kept eye contact with the other man. “I have not been in contact with the rebels. I can’t give you any other answers.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t. I have no other answers to give, Brigade Leader.” He mentally begged for the man to believe him.

Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head, and ordered Benton and Walsh, “Get him up.”

Mike internally sighed as the rough hands uncuffed him from the chair and yanked him to his feet. There had been no sign of distrust before now, so why was Lethbridge-Stewart going so hard on him now?

********

Mike hadn’t said anything through the light whipping yesterday, and he couldn't imagine they would do much more before deciding he was innocent. They wouldn't risk majorly or permanently injuring a good soldier. All he had to do was stay strong today, and he’d be in the clear.

He was again cuffed to that chair, and Benton focused his punches to his chest and stomach this time. More beating to soften him up.

“You truly are trying the Brigade Leader’s patience,” Shaw informed from beside the mentioned man.

“I can't tell you anything different,” Mike responded, his voice strained from the force of the last blow.

Lethbridge-Stewart considered him for a long moment, then ordered Benton and Walsh to keep watch on him. He stepped out of the room with Shaw, no doubt to discuss what to do next.

Mike looked up to Benton with a little smile. “Do you think I’m guilty?”

“Stay quiet,” Benton responded.

Mike sighed at the lack of answer. Not that Benton’s opinion would matter in the decision, but he was curious. “Does it… bother you, all this? Because I really don’t know why I’ve been suspected.”

“I said quiet.”

Mike accepted the lack of answer this time. Benton wasn’t really the type to question his superiors.

A couple minutes later, Lethbridge-Stewart and Shaw came back in. The Brigade Leader went to the storage cabinet, and Mike swallowed heavily as he pulled out a heavy bludgeon. He’d seen it used before in an interrogation.

“Answer me truthfully, Yates.”

Mike forced himself to look away from the weapon in the man’s hand. “I haven’t been in contact with them, Brigade Leader.”

“Get him over here,” Lethbridge-Stewart ordered Benton and Walsh.

Within a moment, Mike’s chair was pushed forward enough to be within arm’s reach of the edge of the desk. Lethbridge-Stewart held Mike’s right wrist down against it, and Walsh held Mike around the chest to make certain he wouldn't go anywhere.

Mike took a deep breath, guessing what was about to happen. He willed himself to make it through this. It had to be the last test. He could do it.

Lethbridge-Stewart handed the bludgeon to Benton, who nodded as he accepted it. Benton tested its weight for a few seconds before he stared down at Mike’s unprotected forearm.

“You don’t have to do this,” Mike pleaded. “I’m not with them. I’m not, I swear.” His hand on the desk clenched into a tight fist in anticipation. He fought to stop from trying to wrench it from the Brigade Leader’s grip. He had to be strong.

“Now, Benton,” Lethbridge-Stewart commanded.

With only a hint of hesitation, Benton swung the weapon down. Mike cried out at the impact, the bone certainly having at least fractured with the force.

“Again.”

This time Mike screamed as he felt the bone break. His eyes flew wide and the fingers on his hand in the Brigade Leader’s hold clawed at the hard wood of the desk. A wave of nausea rolled through him at the pain. He tried to yank it away from further abuse, but only added to the pain.

“Have you been assisting the rebel effort?” Lethbridge-Stewart shouted.

“N-no, sir!”

Lethbridge-Stewart gestured to Benton to back away. Mike breathed heavily through his nose in a vain attempt to control the pain. He’d passed the test, hadn’t he? Why hadn’t the other men let go of him?

The Brigade Leader fixed his eye on Mike, staring for a moment. Then he repeated, “Have you been assisting the rebel effort?”

Mike shook his head, silently begging for this to be over. The agony in his arm only seemed to intensify every second it was outstretched like this. He wanted nothing more than to cradle it to his chest and protect it.

Lethbridge-Stewart slowly lifted Mike’s wrist from the desk and took two steps to him.

“Please, sir, I-I-” Mike broke off into another scream as the other man wrenched his arm up and twisted it. “St-stop! Stop!”

Walsh let him go, and Mike frantically tried to pull back and away from Lethbridge-Stewart. But the Brigade Leader yanked him forward, and Mike had no choice but to fall forward. The intensity of the pain going through his body made it impossible for his legs to support him, and he fell to his knees.

“P-please! Sir, please, I-I” His arm twisted further. Black spots began to form at the edges of his vision from the additional agony. He howled as the broken bone twisted too far and nearly made him lose his breakfast. He couldn’t take it any more.

“Y-yes!” he finally admitted. His cry broke into a sob. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?” Lethbridge-Stewart asked, relieving the pressure only the tiniest bit. When Mike didn't respond, he twisted the arm again, harder than before. “Yes, what?” he yelled over Mike’s fresh scream.

“I am! I am! Help-helping them!” Mike nearly blacked out. And when the Brigade Leader finally let go, Mike fell to the floor and curled in on himself, clutching his broken arm to his chest. His legs blindly lashed out in response to the intense pain, and he inadvertently kicked the chair into Walsh. It fell over with a clatter. His eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out from them. His breath went out short and came in stuttered.

“So, you are the traitor in our midst.” Lethbridge-Stewart kicked Mike’s shoulder.

Mike tried to curl in tighter, nearly dry-heaving. He’d admitted it. He’d been pushed just past the threshold, and now… now he was in for it.

“Take him to the infirmary.”

********

Mike winced from the pain of Benton roughly taking his tightly wrapped, but not casted, broken arm and cuffing it to the chair. He’d had a day to recover, but he knew that recovery time would mean nothing now.

“Why are you helping the rebel effort?” Lethbridge-Stewart immediately began.

Mike stayed silent, except for the grunt as Benton’s leg brushed against his injured arm.

“As a soldier of the Republic Security Forces, you’re well provided for,” Shaw pointed out. “What reason would you have to risk losing that?”

The questions came fast, as did the punishments for not answering them. Mike’s only verbal responses were cries from the blows.

When that method proved to be ineffective, Lethbridge-Stewart called Benton and Walsh off. Mike looked up at him, one eye bruising and swelling. The Brigade Leader pulled a combat knife from his boot, approached the captive, and seized a handful of his hair. He pulled Mike’s head back and brought the knife into clear view.

“Must you mess up his pretty face?” Shaw asked. “It is one of his redeeming features.”

“I could…” Lethbridge-Stewart considered.

Mike couldn't suppress the shiver as the flat part of the blade ghosted over his forehead and down to stop above his left eye. He swallowed heavily, and tried to keep his gaze on the Brigade Leader’s eye, though his focus involuntarily kept flickering to the eyepatch and scar.

Mike shut his eyes when the knife turned so the edge just barely touched his skin. The cuffs around his wrists rattled slightly as his hands shook in anticipation. The blade drifted down his cheek and jaw, enough pressure to let him know it was a threat, but not enough to actually break the skin. He only opened his eyes again when the knife completely withdrew.

“No, it’s too early for that,” Lethbridge-Stewart determined.

Mike only released his held breath as the Brigade Leader took a step back.

“Who are your contacts?” Shaw asked.

Lethbridge-Stewart began walking around Mike, adding to his anxiety.

“No one,” Mike repeated his earlier answer.

“As we’ve already established, you cannot be working with them without a contact,” Shaw stated.

Mike shook his head, both as an answer and to clear it of that woman and her name. He only knew her first one, but it could possibly be enough for them to work with if he gave it.

Lethbridge-Stewart kept walking around Mike slowly as they continued to ask questions. After a few minutes, he sighed, “You really are testing my patience, Yates.”

“Y-yes, sir…” Mike replied, trying to avoid getting the blood trickling from his nose in his mouth.

“Yes, sir…” Lethbridge-Stewart echoed mockingly. He made another slow circle around Mike.

A loud bang suddenly sounded and echoed out from behind Mike. He cried out, then froze at the unexpected blossom of fierce pain in his right shoulder. It took him a few seconds to register what had happened. The Brigade Leader had shot him.

Mike barely felt the warm blood trickling down his back over the pain from the bullet. He hunched over as far as the cuffs would allow, clenching his teeth and his left hand tightly to get through it. His ears still rang from the sound of the shot so close to him.

He let out another cry as he was kicked over, still cuffed to the chair, landing on the broken arm and shot shoulder. He couldn’t do anything except kick out and fruitlessly try to turn over onto his front to get the pressure off his injured arm.

“Don’t try my patience much longer,” the Brigade Leader warned. He watched the struggling man for a moment, then ordered Benton and Walsh, “Get him fixed up.”

********

Mike sat up as Lethbridge-Stewart entered the cells. He winced at the pull of his bandaged shoulder and arm.

“Nothing to say yet?” the Brigade Leader prompted.

“I expect I’ll be executed for treason,” Mike stated, resigned to his fate. Now that he’d admitted his crime, there was very little chance of getting out of it. “Might as well do that now.”

“Execute you now? No. We need to get all the information from you. And after we do, you’re going to serve as a public message.”

Mike’s right hand clenched loosely behind him. He wouldn’t even get a relatively dignified execution. Of course not. A soldier turning traitor? Well, that was worthy of a public lesson to the population of the Republic of Great Britain. After Lethbridge-Stewart was done with him, he’d be strung up in some square, his further punishment being broadcasted…

“You will talk, Yates. One way or another.”

********

Two days later, Mike was cuffed to the chair, the customary way of starting the sessions. But someone new was here. Another soldier, Osgood, Mike recognized, fiddling with a large control box on the desk.

“I’ve got it set up, sir,” Osgood said to Lethbridge-Stewart.

“Very good. Get it on him.”

Walsh moved from behind Mike to grab something else on the desk. A pair of large headphones. Were they going to make him listen to propaganda? But then he thought it looked vaguely familiar, perhaps something from a past mission.

“Where do you meet your contacts?” Lethbridge-Stewart asked.

“Nowhere.”

Walsh fitted the headphones snuggly over Mike’s head, covering his ears. He could still hear well enough.

Shaw stood from her chair and approached their captive. “This is going to make you more… open to answering us,” she informed.

Mike remembered something about a mind control machine from a chemical plant a few months ago. Was this that same machine, or at least a version of it? Were they really going to try mind controlling him into answering their questions?

Mike hadn’t been looking when Osgood turned on the machine, but he felt a painful sharp jolt in his head. Then it felt like… electricity? He couldn’t tell, all he knew was that it hurt. And it was starting to hurt badly.

“Do you want to talk yet?” Lethbridge-Stewart barked.

Mike shook his head, but he could feel a strange slight pull to cooperate. He had to resist it, no matter what they asked. He shuddered as the intensity of whatever it was increased. But he stayed strong, not daring to even open his mouth any more in case anything slipped out.

Less than five minutes later, he couldn't keep his mouth closed any longer as a scream escaped. The agony in his head was too much to keep it in. He could barely hear the shouted questions. “Stop! Stop! Please!” But it didn’t, and he kept screaming.

And then suddenly, it stopped, and Mike slumped forward, moaning through the residual pain.

“Shaw!” Lethbridge-Stewart shouted.

Mike lifted his head up enough to see that Shaw was standing next to the control box with Osgood. His head dropped down to his chest again.

“It was too much,” she explained. “He’s no good to us dead, or if his mind gets turned to mush.”

Lethbridge-Stewart snorted impatiently. “Very well. Osgood, take it away and see if you can… refine it.”

Osgood hurriedly took the headphones off Mike and left with them and the control box.

“Never understood the fuss for those sorts of things. The traditional methods will do us fine.”

Mike’s body shuddered violently again, and he silently hoped that they wouldn’t use that thing on him again, whether it worked properly or not.

********

Mike shivered under the thin blanket. He’d been shoved into his cell less than an hour ago, by his distorted estimation of time, and been left to weakly crawl onto the bed.

How many sessions was this now? He had lost count. Not that it would matter.

What did matter was that he’d given Lethbridge-Stewart some of what he wanted. He told him some of what information he had given to his rebel contact. And while it had been enough for now, he couldn’t hold out much longer. Not with all the harsh pains all over his body. The broken arm and damaged shoulder were good easy targets, in addition to whatever other pain dealt to him.

Mike weakly wiped at his face with the back of his left hand, grimacing as it aggravated the deeply cut skin of his cheek. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but like everything else, it still hurt.

How much longer until he told Lethbridge-Stewart everything? He just wanted all this to end, but he couldn’t betray the rebel effort any more than he already had. He had to hold on. He had to…

********

Mike jolted awake at the rattle against the bars of his cell. It still startled him after the many days. He objectively knew why they did it, to disorientate him, but that didn’t stop it from doing just that.

He gingerly turned over onto his side, shivering. He felt so ill, his head fuzzy, his body too warm and cold at the same time. A fever, no doubt. No surprise there.

“Get up!” barked the guard.

Mike wearily sat up on the edge of the bed, then got to his unsteady feet. He was so tired, so exhausted, in so much pain.

Shaw entered the holding cells, and informed, “You’ll be going somewhere special today. Perhaps a bit of public humiliation will loosen your tongue.”

All Mike could do in response was stare at her.

“We’re loading you up now. Lethbridge-Stewart and I will follow along a little later.”

Mike was marched out of the building in his bare feet, and he shivered at the early morning chill. The three soldiers roughly loaded him into the back of the closed truck, cuffing his right wrist to the side. He didn’t bother pulling at it to test it, not wanting to feel any more pain in his tightly-wrapped arm and bandaged shoulder.

He started to keel over to the side, and tried to snap back upright at the barked command of “Sit up!” He only managed to a little, but it seemed good enough for the two soldiers sitting on the bench across from him.

He tried to lean back to avoid falling over again. His eyes closed, and he felt himself begin to drift off, despite his discomfort. He’d grown used to that by now.

Some time later, Mike drifted back to semi-awareness at voices talking loudly. He opened his eyes, but barely turned his head, his neck ached so much.

“... good, turn him over to us.”

“Sir, we have orders from Brigade Leader Lethbridge-Stewart to take him to Hyde Park ourselves. He will be following shortly.”

“Change of plan. They want something a little more secure than your truck while in London. You know, to prevent anyone getting any ideas to harm him, or give him opportunity to escape.”

“We’ll have to check with Lethbridge-Stewart first.”

“Of course, of course.” That was quickly followed by the sound of a fist hitting flesh.

Mike finally turned at the sound of a fight, but his pain-addled mind couldn't quite catch up. The soldiers assigned to take him to Hyde Park were fighting another group of three men in RSF uniforms. He didn’t know what to think. Not until the new group knocked the first unconscious.

Mike panicked as one of the assailants jumped in, and he yanked with his broken arm in the process, causing him to cry out.

“Calm down. We’re getting you out of here.” The man let out a little sigh at the metal around Mike’s right wrist, and he called out, “He’s cuffed to the seat. Check them for the key.”

“Wh-who… Where are… are you…?” Mike asked breathily. He couldn't quite form the thought into coherent words.

“He’s not in good shape,” the man hovering over Mike said as a second man handed him a small key. To Mike, he said, “Trust us, we’re getting you out of here.”

Mike didn’t know what to trust. They were wearing RSF uniforms, and perhaps this was all a dirty trick to lull him into a sense of safety and say things. But he was too tired and hurt to put up any meaningful resistance, either mentally or physically.

“Can you walk?”

Mike started to rise from the bench, but stumbled forward and was caught by the man.

“Ian, come on,” the third man said, stepping up with one leg to help maneuver the prisoner out. Between the two of them, they got him out quickly, though not without small cries and whimpers of protest and pain from Mike.

They carried him a short distance to the back of a larger truck. They set him down on a bench covered with a thick blanket. Out of panic for self-preservation, Mike turned over to try to get away, and weakly kicked out.

“We’re here to help,” Ian assured. The third man added, “I’m a doctor.”

But it was the next voice that got Mike to stop moving. “It’s alright, Mike.” He moved his head to see the owner. “S-Sarah…?” She smiled down at him, though the effect wasn’t as assuring with the RSF uniform cap on her head. She whipped it off, and his mouth opened in a slight relieved smile at the welcome face.

“That’s right,” she reassured. She tenderly slid her hand down Mike’s uninjured arm to loosely hold his wrist. “I’m here. We’re rescuing you.”

“Settled?” the second man, the one who had stood guard while Ian and the doctor had carried him, asked.

“Well enough,” the doctor said as Ian moved Mike’s legs back onto the bench.

The other man jumped out, then banged on the outside of the truck and shouted, “Let’s go, Duchess!”

Less than thirty seconds later, the vehicle began moving. Mike kept his focus on Sarah’s face as she turned to look at the curly-haired doctor. “What do you think, Harry?” She kept her hand around Mike’s shivering one.

“Definite fever.” Harry turned away from then for a moment to grab a stethoscope from a box on the opposite bench.

“It’s alright, Mike,” Sarah soothed, returning her full attention to him.

They waited a couple of minutes as Harry took Mike’s vitals, and checked over what injuries he could see. “Not much we can do for him at the moment, except keep him comfortable.”

Sarah took the extra half of blanket over the side of the bench and draped it over Mike’s trembling body. “You’ll be safe now,” she softly said.

“S-safe now…” Mike echoed. He genuinely believed her, and his body began to relax.

********

When the truck came to a stop some time later, Sarah and Harry stayed in it with Mike, while Ian and the other man got out. While they were gone, another woman, with blonde hair coming out from under her RSF cap, looked in and asked, “How’s he doing?”

“I’ll know more once we’re inside, but I think, with a fair amount of treatment and rest, he’ll be alright,” Harry answered.

Mike was still having some difficulty processing it all. He’d been rescued. Sarah, his rebel contact, had rescued him, and taken him… he had no idea where, but he assumed somewhere safe.

Ian brought out a wheelchair, and they transferred him to it. Mike didn’t get a good look at his surroundings before he got inside, but it looked like a large country estate sort of house. As soon as they made it inside the door, the other man, his dark blonde hair now visible without the uniform hat, was there with a smaller darker-skinned man with round glasses.

“Oh dear…” the smaller man sighed at the sight of the man in the wheelchair. “Such brutality.”

“Ready, Cho Je?” Harry asked.

“Of course.” The darker-skinned man stepped forward to follow.

They took Mike to a large room that had been set up as an infirmary. His left hand clenched at the memory of rough unsympathetic hands patching him up after interrogation sessions.

“Right, we need…” Harry started.

A long while later, Mike closed his eyes. He was so tired, but at least now the constant varied pains had lessened due to medication. Cho Je was gone, but Harry was writing at a small desk in the corner.

“Mike?”

He opened his eyes at Sarah’s voice, and watched her approach with a mug in her hand. “Sarah…” he breathed.

“How are you feeling?” She grabbed a nearby chair to sit beside the bed.

“Not really…” He took a deep breath, wincing at the flared ache in his ribcage. “Better, I-I suppose.”

“Good. Here, Cho Je made this.” Sarah helped him sit upright enough to drink. “It doesn’t taste good, but it’ll help.”

Mike stared down into the mug for a moment, and the dark green liquid didn’t look appetizing in the slightest. Still, with Sarah’s help, he raised it to his mouth. He nearly spit it out at the warm temperature, thick texture, and heavy herbal bitter taste, but forced his mouth closed and swallowed.

“I know,” Sarah said lightly. “But it does help, I promise, from experience.”

Mike managed another mouthful before he pushed it away. “Thanks.” He leaned back against the pillows. “I’m s-sorry…”

“I doubt it’s your fault,” Sarah responded, holding the mug on her lap.

Mike shook his head. “Don’t know… don’t know why they… they suspected me. B-but I… I-I con-confessed at some point.”

“I don’t blame you. You are in pretty bad shape.”

“St-still… should’ve been strong… stronger. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry we couldn't get you out any sooner.” Sarah quietly responded, and laid her hand over Mike’s on the sheets.

A moment later, both looked to the door as someone else entered the infirmary. He had dark hair, which was brushed back, and a goatee, with two white stripes in the beard. He wore all black, but gave off a less sinister demeanor with his body language.

“I see you were successful. How is your soldier?” he asked Sarah.

“He’s hardly mine, Koschei.” She looked to Mike, sadness in her expression at his condition. “And I certainly doubt he’s a soldier now.”

Koschei nodded to the pair. “My apologies.” He stopped at Mike’s other side.

Mike’s eyes met the other man’s. The brown eyes were intense, and he had to avert his gaze for a second. But then, they were also strangely calming.

Koschei broke the intense eye contact after a moment. “They did much to you. But you were strong. Do not doubt that.” He laid his hand on Mike’s right hand, being careful not to disturb the newly casted and slinged arm at all. “You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

********

“Mr Yates, you must be patient,” Cho Je protested as Mike pushed the blankets off his legs. “You aren’t ready.”

Mike got to his bare feet anyway, weakly pushing the smaller man away. His legs were still unsteady from the fever and pains, but he didn’t care. He needed to go outside, feel the air and sun. He’d been denied that too long. He’d laid in bed for over a day, and couldn't stand that any longer, either.

Cho Je followed him out of the infirmary, verbally fretting the whole time he accompanied him to a door that led out to the back of the estate.

“Mr Yates, please come back inside. You need rest.”

“I’m f-fine,” Mike asserted, silently cursing the still-present tremor in his voice. He sat on the porch, nearly falling down in the process and only saved by Cho Je catching his arm and guiding him down.

“Mr Yates, please.”

“Hey, Cho Je, I’ve got this, yeah?” Sarah said from behind them. “I’ll get you if he passes out or something.”

With a tiny sigh, Cho Je nodded to her and left them.

Sarah sat down next to Mike. “Needed some air?”

Mike nodded, and breathed in the perfectly cool air and relished in the sight of the green countryside and the breeze on his face. He unconsciously rubbed at the partially-healed cut on his cheek. He shuddered at the memory of Lethbridge-Stewart nearly deciding to blind his eye with the knife before slicing open the skin underneath instead.

“So…” Mike asked after a few minutes of quiet companionship. “What now?”

“You rest and recover.” Sarah teased, “Inside, preferably, before Cho Je decides to lock you in the infirmary.”

Mike gave a tiny smile at the joke. “I mean… after that.”

“We could get you away from here. Somewhere else.”

Mike’s brow furrowed in thought. “Where?”

“That’s not really my field, but out of Great Britain. But not for at least another couple of weeks when you’d be healthy enough to do anything, according to Harry.”

Mike was quiet, then he responded. “Th-think I’ll stay…”

“How about you think on that a little longer, at least until you start feeling better.”

Mike hummed in response. He flinched as she tentatively put her arm around his shoulders, but let her do it. She drew him in close to her, being careful of his bad shoulder. His body stiffened, but soon relaxed, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his fatigue catching up to him.

They simply sat there, watching and listening to the peaceful surroundings.


End file.
